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 In a far corner of Venezuela there is a mist-shrouded land called Tepuis. One of the highest points is Roraima (2,880 metres), where Guyana and Brazil meet. The "Tepuis" are the enormous table mountains that emerge from the tropical forest: in Roraima one walks over bright crystals and one sleeps above the clouds. What else could one ask for?
Text y Photos: Jenny Chua
I left Caracas airport and was met by the hot climate. After checking the local airlines one by one I chose the cheapest company and flew directly to Puerto Ordaz, the closest airport to Santa Elena de Uairen, the point of departure for all trekkers. The route from Puerto Ordaz to Uairen takes seven hours in the direction of the Canaima National Park, where Roraima is located. (None of the passengers on the plane appeared to be a foreigner and I felt a little lonely, until I finally met some other backpackers.) As it was nightfall I checked into a hostel and left the search for a group of trekkers to join for the next day.
Offering to the Earth
The next day I visited the street of travel agencies in Av. Mariscal Sucre and discovered that the treks to Roraima do not leave every day. I therefore signed up with a group that was about to leave. After a bit of bargaining I quickly climbed aboard the jeep and we were off. We all made friends almost immediately. Our group was comprised of two single Britons and a couple from that same country, a Basque couple, a young Dutchwoman and a very charming Italian. The road was unsealed, the sky a beautiful, bright blue and the greenery along the route was fresh and vibrant. I was happy to find myself surrounded by nature once again. Everyone began telling jokes, anticipating what might be awaiting us on our six day trek, the longest hike that any of us had ever undertaken.
But we need not have worried so, for we were being guided by wise Jaime and his nine year-old son Miguel, who often led the group (it was his seventh trip). Before we set off we made an offering to Pachamama (Mother Earth) - an obligatory ritual for all travellers. Roraima, with its colossal sixty square kilometre summit, could be seen in the distance. We made our first camp by the edge of a river, the first of many bathing spots and natural pools we would encounter along the route. As we bathed our evening meal was prepared by our guide and it smelled marvellous.
 Natural Jacuzzi
The second day Jaime told us about the different medicinal plants that we could use in the event of fever, a cold or a headache (none of which occurred). We walked through plains and steep hills and passed a church before reaching the base of Roraima, where we made camp.
The third, tough, day was a spectacular ascent. We climbed the slopes of Roraima and passed under waterfalls that were like light rain showers. After negotiating the loose, rocky slopes I was the last to reach the summit. There was an air of mystery amid the thin blanket of clouds that lay against the black rock formations.
As with any journey into the unknown, we needed the services of an expert, and Jaime guided us to places that took our breath away during the two and a half days of our lives that we spent above the clouds. We set up our tents and were sheltered by rock formations like caves. It was a miniature version of the caves of Cappadoccia in Turkey. Soon after establishing the camp Miguel led us to a natural jacuzzi of cold, clear water in a pool that had a carpet of quartz at its bottom. A brief dip was enough to refresh us in those freezing waters!
Lost in the Mist
As we were drying off we saw a family group and their guide, who joined us for a while. I stayed behind the others, taking photos and admiring the contrast between their small figures and that place known as The Abyss. There were hundreds of fascinating rock formations, natural designs and species of flora. I stopped several times and lost sight of the rest of the group. I hurried to catch up with them in the direction I thought they had gone in, but when I started to cry out I heard no reply. I looked behind me and saw that the mist was closing in on me quickly. In a few minutes, I knew, everything would be covered in white. It was then that I started to pray. Five, ten minutes passed and I opened my eyes for a moment and saw that the mist was continuing its advance. And it was then that I heard Miguel's languid whistle. I gradually recognised the little figure coming from precisely the opposite direction which I had taken in my effort to catch up with the group and I hurried towards him in order to be reunited with the rest of the group as quickly as possible. I silently vowed that I would never again risk myself for "one last photo".
I met up with the group at La Ventana, and I realised that they had not noticed that they had lost me for a while, for they themselves had lost themselves in the beauty of their surroundings. They had posed on an enormous, rectangular rock face upon which the entire family fitted easily. Half of this rock wall was anchored on the side of Roraima, while the other half hung in space. We gathered our courage and leaned over to look down at La Ventana. It was formed by the joining of three crags, the third of which stood vertically and looked as if it might fall into that 2,880 metre void at any moment. But the sun was setting and so we began the one hour walk back to the campsite, while the pink sand and the bright crystals stretched out before us.
The Magical Hour
The next day was also filled with fresh discoveries of things we had never seen before. We had arrived at a flat area that made me think that I was on the moon or in a studio set from "Star Trek". The Italian and the Briton began to meditate. Their Buddhist chanting rang out clearly, installing itself in the relaxing atmosphere that reached us wherever we were. Once we had rested our group headed for the canyon and its ragged walls, where we found nightingales' nests sheltered by the clefts in the rock. Our last expedition that day was to a cave. Every one of our destinations there at the summit of the mountain was a unique and novel experience.
When I awoke the next day it was still dark. La Ventana had made such an impression on me that I decided to go back at dawn with half of the group. Something that my teacher had said to me once had remained in my mind: "Great photos are a product of extra effort". In the distance we saw the sun climb above the horizon at the end of the Tepuis. We ran as fast as we could before "the magical hour", as my Uncle Patrick called it, came to an end.
It was our last day at the summit of the Tepuis and Jaime still had another surprise up his sleeve. He offered to take us to the highest point of Roraima. We reached the peak aching and exhausted, but with our eyes much clearer than they had been for a long time.
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